


In Thought and Memory

by Skullszeyes



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Bisexuality, Depression, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Hatred, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-30 16:13:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13955247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skullszeyes/pseuds/Skullszeyes
Summary: Fenris is still plagued with terrible thoughts and memories, and he tries his hardest to drown it out, but Hawke is there to comfort him when he needs it most.





	1. Chapter 1

Fenris stared at the ceiling, body tinged with spikes of pleasure and exhaustion. The blanket lay half on his body, and his room was quiet once Isabela had left. He breathed heavily, trying to stay in that fixture of his afterglow, but there was the dark recesses of his mind that began to spill forth. Crawling their way to the surface, wrapping around his heart, and suffocating his lungs.

Fenris stuttered a breath, and he closed his eyes at the pain that washed over him. The intensity of it made him groan as his body curled on its side, the cold of the empty estate couldn’t even rid him of the thoughts in his mind, they intruded upon his escape, and made him flinch at the memories that clouded his senses.

Sucking in a sliver of air when the memories dampened and he reached for a bottle on the nightstand beside the bed. It was half full, but enough for him as he managed to sit upright, the blanket covering his waist, and he tipped his head back, and drank the contents. He ignored the burn down his throat, the rush of warmth that tasted wrong, and he drank and drank before placing the empty bottle back down.

There was more in the estate, more that he needed to rid him of his memories, the terrible, terrible, memories that ripped him open on the inside. It made him shudder, but he wrapped the blanket around himself, and rose.

He left the bedroom to look for more wine bottles, and each room was colder than the last, but he soon found more in the pantry. He was running low and will need to restock, but for now he had enough to drown his sorrows and rage that swirled along with the suffocating pain that made him want to drown.

He took the bottles back to the room and he sat on his bed, and for the rest of the night, he drank until his mind spun, and his body was warm and numb. He didn’t need to feel anything, didn’t need to remember. He laughed to himself, reveling in the alcohol that swam in his system.

Lying back down on his bed once he finished the bottles he brought to the room, it was almost morning, the sun rising in the horizon. Fenris curled back on the bed and he did not close his eyes right away. He stared out the window, watching the sky and its golden undertones weaving through the blue of the night.

He blinked a few times, his eyes growing heavy, and finally he closed them and fell asleep. When he woke, it was not alone, and he heard the first sounds before he could even open his eyes, before his mind could come back to him from the day of dreaming, and his headache is what made him stay down then grabbing his blade to defend himself.

“Fenris?” Hawke’s voice, heavy and smooth like honey entered the room. “Oh, maker...Fenris...your blanket.”

He groaned, opening his eyes to the bright sun and its brighter sky. He reached for the blanket that was on the floor and pulled it over his body. He was stiff, aching from the odd angle, and he managed to sit upright to look at his visitor.

His vision was slightly blurry, and his headache didn’t make him feel any better. He placed a hand on the side of his head, and tried to will the rising anger to go down.

“What do you want?” he asked, voice raspy and underused.

“I just wanted to see what you’re up too,” Hawke said, standing in the threshold of the room, his eyes glancing around and noting the wine bottles sprawled on the floor and the bedside table. “I see you’ve been having fun.”

Fenris thought of Isabela last night, her groans and appreciative moans in his ears as they moved against the wall, and managed to fall on the bed. Her warmth had drove away the pain in his chest, and the images in his mind. Only for awhile, and when she had left, he was empty all over again. Pitiful.

“Another night,” Fenris commented, dropping his hand. “I’m sorry, Hawke, I’m not entertaining you right now.”

Hawke nodded. “I understand, you just woke up from drinking your entire pantry, I just wanted to ask if you wanted to go eat.”

Eat? Food was far from his mind, and there was a lot in his pantry, but he did not touch any of it. He had tried a few times, and it wasn’t rotten or moldy, he just preferred not to eat at certain times. And mostly it was all the time.

Fenris tilted his head up at Hawke and gave him a smirk. “We can do something else besides eat food….something more enjoyable in which we don’t have to move far.”

Hawke arched a brow, crossing his arms over his chest. For a moment, Fenris regretted what he said and what he implied, his mind was still foggy and his emptiness was getting to him. He was about to take back his words when Hawke said, “Let’s eat first, it’s better we have full stomachs before doing anything exerting.”

Fenris frowned. “Let me change.”

Hawke nodded and left the room, and Fenris waited until the man was far away to stand, he dropped the blanket and walked over to his abandoned clothes on the floor. The same that Isabela enjoyed taking off slowly, her fingers touching him, prodding at the places that made him sigh and impatient. She enjoyed teasing him to an extent, and enjoyed what she got from it.

Fenris pulled his clothes and armour on, looked for his blade before leaving the room and joining Hawke near the front door.

“Lead away,” he said.

Hawke grasped the knob and they left the estate. The sun bore down on them and Fenris felt it in his clothes, his headache still throbbed on the sides of his head as he lowered his eyes to the cement. He followed Hawke through the winding streets before they stopped at a tavern that was not The Hanged Man.

“Why are we here?” he asked, expecting more dirt and grime, instead it was clean and smelled of soap as if the floors were just recently washed.

“To eat,” Hawke said, sitting down near a window in the back. Fenris sat with him, feeling incredibly uncomfortable by the place they were in.

A woman came and Hawke told her what they wanted, and Fenris didn’t object, he didn’t want to look at her. Once she was gone, Fenris raised his eyes at Hawke who didn’t look confused, more that he understood the place they were in.

“You enjoy seeing my discomfort?” Fenris asked.

Hawke smiled, “You think too much, it’s not like that in the least. We haven’t seen each other in some time, and Varric figured you were holed up in your estate again. I did hear from Isabela that she’s seen you a few times, but I wanted to come in person.”

Fenris thought this was strange, but Hawke was right. He hadn’t left his mansion in awhile, and it wasn’t like he didn’t like going outside. It was just the thoughts hit him so frequently that he couldn’t outright enjoy himself without them ruining his time. They simmered on the surface, but soon they will rise to torment him.

Even now, his skin itched, and his mind strained under the weight of being outside, of being near people. He never really had this problem, and he was quite social with his friends, but maybe he did stay in his mansion for too long.

The food came quick and Fenris stared down at the meat and vegetables on the side. A glass of wine sat in front of his food, and he reached for that first, the taste was cool against his tongue and he enjoyed it immensely.

“Besides the obvious,” Hawke began as he cut into his meat, “how are you?”

Fenris placed the cup down. “I’m fine.”

“Are you?” Hawke asked, glancing at him. “You don’t seem fine in the least.”

“When did you become observant?” Fenris inquired, a smile tugging at his lips.

“I’ve always been observant and you’re avoiding the question.”

“I answered fairly truthfully.”

Hawke chewed on his food, his eyes stayed on Fenris who was staring down at his own, he reached for the fork and the knife, and he cut into the meat, a small piece that smelled divine. His mouth was dry, and he wished for the glass, but Hawke’s scrutinizing gaze left him immobile.

He placed the food in his mouth and for a moment it was too much. The taste was overwhelming, and he sighed into it, but the thoughts returned full force upon his mind. The memories of the heat, the pain in his knees, and his arms, the screaming that left his throat badly raw for weeks. The things that he seen, the terrible bloodletting, the children who were sacrificed, and he, a loyal dog next to his master, not moving an inch to save any of them.

Why didn’t he save them?

There were the excuses that he was only out for himself, that his life was his own and they were unfortunate subjects under the rule of magisters, and he would find a way to escape unlike the ones who couldn’t even run, but scream their pain before going out like a light.

“Fenris,” Hawke said, a little louder than he ought, and it startled Fenris who looked up.

His hands were shaking, the rest of his body was stiff, and the food was still in his mouth. He managed to swallow, breathing shallowly. “I’m sorry...there’s too much on my mind.”

Hawke wore an expression that didn’t look like he believed him. But it was enough for Fenris who reached for his cup and drank slowly, trying to keep the rush of his memories from consuming him for too long.

Once he placed his cup down, he glanced at his food and wondered if he could stomach any of it. Maybe he couldn’t, maybe the food would come up and he would fail himself again, like the people who didn’t eat for days, that starved because a woman decided to be cruel, dragging her rage through their skin and yanking them by the hair.

“Fenris.” A hand touched his own, and he blinked a few times, breathing hard, the hand was warm and it had brought him back from the intrusive thoughts, from the memories that tortured him. His own heart was racing in his chest, like a bird trying to escape a cage.

“I’m sorry,” Fenris whispered, looking at Hawke’s hand that was on his own, a tether that he didn’t understand but yearned for, “I’m sorry...I think we should go.”

Hawke nodded, slipping his hand from Fenris’ who had to clench his teeth at the loss. “We will, and we’ll head back to my place, the bed is a lot more comfortable.”

Fenris smiled, a sensation rose inside of him that was unlike the pain, but it was the warmth that touched him, and excited him.

“We should go,” he repeated.

Hawke nodded. “And we will, once we’re finished eating.”

Fenris frowned, he looked down at his food and didn’t know if he could eat any of it, but he could try, and maybe he could rid himself of the terrible thoughts and memories that made him shake and feel nothing but emptiness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris is conflicted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't looked at any cut scenes of Dragon Age: II, nor do I remember the game, it's been a long time since I last played. But I wanted to write Fenris and Hawke, something short and hopefully nice. 
> 
> Comments and/or Kudo's are appreciative.

After they’re finished eating, mostly Hawke, Fenris didn’t really eat besides ask for more wine. They leave and head back to Hawke’s estate. The sun reminds Fenris of his headache, but the wine he consumed helped stave it off. He’s a bit more happier without the intrusive thoughts and memories clambering to torment him, and he tries to enjoy himself more freely.

They arrive at his estate and they enter. It’s quiet, a bit more cleaner that his own, but he doesn’t stare too long, nor care at all. He follows Hawke to the bedroom, and his heart races with anticipation. The emptiness inside of him throbs with need to fill it up with something, and pleasure usually helped.

He sits on the bed, smoothing his hand on the fabric of the blanket and looks to Hawke who is taking off his armour. He admires him for a moment, tall with broad shoulders, fine muscles, with dark hair, and a smile that wins over the worst of people, and the eyes that see through lies.

At least that’s how Fenris views Hawke. A man who could do anything, suave and charismatic all on his own, using a blade to take what he needs, and usually the answers come frolicking to his feet to kiss them. The thought makes Fenris smile, and he might’ve had too much wine with the strange images he’s conjuring in his mind.

“Why are you smiling?” Hawke asked, walking over to him.

“I’m thinking of bandits kissing your feet,” Fenris says truthfully, this gets a smile from Hawke which he admires.

“Maybe the sixth wine you had was enough to leave you imagining wonderful things,” Hawke says, sitting beside him on the bed.

Fenris shrugs. “It was actually my seventh.”

He was a little more content with himself than he thought and with the free thought and emotions, he leans towards Hawke to plant a kiss on his lips, but Hawke leans back, hand grasping his wrist.

Fenris blinks. “Isn’t this what we came here for?”

“Not exactly,” Hawke says uneasily. He still holds Fenris’s wrist, and the touch sends a jolt through his body, a warmth settles over him, and he wants Hawke to keep on touching him, even if it has to do with stopping him.

And while that feeling might warm his insides, the rising anger replaces it. He rips his hand from Hawke’s and stands.

“What are we doing exactly?” he asked, trying his best to ignore how selfish he sounds.

Hawke stares at him, there’s pity in his eyes and it doesn’t help but annoy Fenris more. “I spoke with Isabela, and she says you’ve been drinking a lot lately, and she sees you more than she usually does, and the food—”

“What about it?” he asked.

“You couldn’t eat it.”

“So it was all a test?” Fenris asked in disbelief.

“I’m worried, Fenris, you can’t tell me that what’s going on is harming you. Even how much you want something that could heal the pain you are feeling, you’ll always feel empty anyway. Alcohol, sex, and even the lack of food can drain you of who you are.”

Fenris shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” And it all comes back to him, whatever feeling he felt had faded to anger, to resentment, and to fear. That same fear that clawed itself in his chest, that ached every night under the stars, he wouldn’t have stayed any longer than he had too, and when he did, the sounds remained inside his head. A forever echo.

“Fenris,” Hawke called.

He grit his teeth, breathing hard through his nose. “I can’t. Okay. I can’t.” He backed away, hoping Hawke wouldn’t see the pain on his face, in his eyes where truth lingered, where all the experience laid bare. He hoped he wouldn’t see it, he wanted to keep his friends safe from the horrors he saw, instead of taking it out on others. This was his own burden, and he shall live with it.

Hawke stood and walked over to him, but Fenris moved back. “I can’t...I’m sorry, Hawke, I can’t deal with this, with myself, I’m sorry. This has been a waste of our time.” He turned and left Hawke in his bedroom, breathing heavily, he stumbled from the estate and made his way back to his mansion.

Closing the door, the walls seem to close in on him and his head throbbed. He went to his bedroom, tearing off his clothes, letting his sword fall to the floor, and he laid down on his bed. Grasping the blankets, he wrapped himself up and stayed in the silence, trying his hardest to calm his beating heart.

Oh, how he wanted to forget the screaming, the helplessness, the pain that stained his skin. He could feel the bruises that once marred his skin, the involuntary touches that left him shaking, and even the pain itself. Rising inside of him, it surrounded his mind, his heart, and he did nothing but succumb to it.

He feels terrible. That’s an understatement, the regret suffocates him. He knows he should’ve listened more to Hawke instead of running away, that maybe he was right in what he was saying. How could he make things better? Was he worthy enough to do so?

With that on mind, he rises and looks for a bottle, finding a few that were weren't completely empty. He drinks, letting it soothe him into nothing, mixing all the pain and pleasure until he falls asleep. Hoping that in itself would help him.

He wakes later on in the evening, the sun is barely set, and he feels something. A weight on the bed, he turns, hand clenched, but he calms down at the sight of Isabela. She smiles at him, expecting the attack, but not flinching away.

She was always like that. Always ready for the worst, she could deal with it, walk hand-in-hand with it until she got what she wanted. The cruelty bit into the smile on red lips, the glint in her eyes as she looks upon his naked chest and down to the blanket that covers everything else.

“Shame,” she said, patting his thigh, “you’ve always been fun when you don’t expect it.”

“Watching me sleep?” he asked, sitting upright in the bed, he rubbed his eyes and tried to will the headache from his mind, but the alcohol was still in his body and the nausea lingered.

“I spoke with Hawke,” she began, watching him as he dropped his hand in his lap, he tried to make his face empty of emotion, but she could always see it, “he told me somethings and I wholeheartedly agree with him.”

“You do?” he wondered, sniffling.

“I do. Hawke knows what he’s talking about, and he has good reason to be worried about you.”

“I was hoping this wasn’t going to be a lecture.”

Isabela kept her smile, sly as ever. “I’m not always going to be your bed mate, Fenris, we take what we want and that is that. This will not make you happy, and you know it.”

Fenris breathed in deeply, he let it out, but all he could see was the blood shed that made his fingers knot into the blanket. He wanted to forget, and he looked for the bottles, but they were all gone.

“You cleaned up,” he noted, “unlike you.”

She shrugged and stood from the bed. “Do us both a favor, pick the right choice.” She turned and left the room, and he stayed sitting, contemplating her words.

He wouldn’t fall for the images in his mind, but for once since it all began, he succumbed to it anyway. He wanted too, at least try and rid them, but their claws dug deep, drawing blood. He sucked in a breath, lying back down on his side, body stiffening up as the memories flooded his mind.

Flickers of memory holding him down. The laughter of the magisters, the empty streets, the cries of slaves who were used and killed, the knife that embedded in many, the spat slurs that tightened the air. He wanted to save them, he wanted to do something that could somehow make things right. Except he didn’t. He knew he couldn’t, so he ran until he found himself in Kirkwall. Drowning in his sorrows and rage, how it fitted him well, but he soon found other escapes, and that didn’t help.

Deep down, he knew that, and tried his hardest to ignore it.

His freedom was tangled with the memories, with the thoughts that lashed out at him. The words, the hate, it breathed on his throat, along his ears, clasping his wrists and holding him down, he wanted to fight, but there was no way out.

He hated himself. That was truth of it, and he tried not too, but it was there like a seared wound. Always reminding him of that fact, and so he drowned inside of it. Tears sprang from his eyes, trailing down his face, his breath choking as he cried in the emptiness of his mansion.

He didn’t know how long, but soon his ear twitched at the sound of someone coming into the room, but he didn’t look. He was too exhausted by the pain and the self-loathing that burned in his throat.

He felt the touches on his skin, the whispers that lingered in the air, and he was brought into the arms of a man who he owed his life too. He wanted to make things right, and he didn’t know how. When will it be enough?

The night descended and they laid on the bed, Fenris in his arms, his cries slowed down and his exhaustion held him until his eyes closed shut and he slept.

When he woke up again, it was early morning. He didn’t expect to sleep so long, but his eyes were heavy from crying, and his chest hurt, but there was a sort of calmness there that he didn’t fully expect.

He looked up at Hawke who laid beside him. He had stayed with him, soothing him, and Fenris wondered if he was worthy to look upon his sleeping face. He stared for sometime, staying in his arms. And he decided that he wanted something, it was small, and he didn’t have to tell anyone, it could be his secret.

He leaned forward and kissed Hawke on the mouth, lingering, he reluctantly moved back, and tensed at the sight of Hawke blinking his eyes open.

“Couldn’t wait until I woke up?” he wondered, his hand still draped over Fenris’ waist.

“Sorry,” Fenris tried to look away, “I shouldn’t have done that.” He was about to move back, but Hawke pulled him closer. He was confused, his self hate had risen with the guilt, but it soothed in Hawke’s arms.

They stayed this way for awhile before Hawke leaned down and kissed Fenris. Slow and sensual that made Fenris forget about his pain, even for awhile, it was gone, but he knew it would grow back. Like a weed.

Hawke broke the kiss, his eyes still closed as he held Fenris close. “Are you okay?”

“You’re asking me now?” Fenris asked, his voice raspy.

He opened his eyes and moved back, and Fenris clenched his teeth at the loss. “I should’ve asked before kissing you.”

“I should’ve too,” Fenris said, smiling.

Hawke touched the side of Fenris’s face, and he had moved into it. “I’ve noticed it for sometime...you enjoy physical touch.”

“How did you guess?” Fenris asked, lying on his back.

Hawke rolls his eyes. “Fine. I guess Isabela’s visits make sense, but just…” he trails his fingers along Fenris’s arms, and he possibly watches as Fenris shivers and tilts his head up. The feeling is strange, he wants more of it, not the forgotten touch he always experiences after a night of meaningless sex. “You’re responsive.”

Fenris murmurs, “Don’t leave me.”

“I’m not,” Hawke says, moving closer and placed a kiss on the side of Fenris’ cheek. “Not if you want me too.”

Fenris shakes his head. “I don’t think I want you too.”

He hadn’t forgotten the pain, the memory and thoughts, he’ll always have that and it will be a part of him always. For now, he could spend his day with Hawke, talking and kissing, letting the pain wane without destroying himself. He will hope for a better future, not as much, but he will hope.


End file.
